


Grip

by Island_of_Reil



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Era, F/M, Femdom, Light Bondage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Contractions, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Island_of_Reil/pseuds/Island_of_Reil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Everyone talks about dicks being as hard as steel or iron, dicks as towers, dicks as titans, dicks as blades, dicks as guns. Dicks, as they all learned in first-year sex ed, are really just tubes of spongy flesh that swell up with blood and are easily damaged, almost as easily as balls are. Cunts, though. Cunts, which push out babies, look kind of like flowers but are made up, mostly, of muscles. That belonging to the girl worth a hundred ordinary soldiers is made up of very strong muscles indeed.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grip

“You like this?” Mikasa asks in a low voice as she rolls her hips forward. In this light her pupils look like they’re bleeding into her irises.

Jean gives her a short nod, swallowing and flushing. From below he watches her small breasts wobble against her chest, the nipples pale pink and stiff. If his hands weren’t tied to the headboard rail he’d try to sit up and suck one of them into his mouth. His hands _are_ tied to the headboard rail because Mikasa doesn’t want to fuck Jean unless he’s immobilized and she has complete control of the situation. As much as he’d like to put his hands and mouth all over her, he’s decided it’s a reasonable tradeoff.

As she stares down at him, holding his gaze, she purposefully contracts hard around him. Jean sees stars. That’s not a _bad_ thing, not entirely. It feels good. It hurts a little too, though.

Everyone talks about dicks being as hard as steel or iron, dicks as towers, dicks as titans, dicks as blades, dicks as guns. Dicks, as they all learned in first-year sex ed, are really just tubes of spongy flesh that swell up with blood and are easily damaged, almost as easily as balls are. They have some muscles deep inside them, the kind you have no control over, plus a few at the base that let you make your dick “dance” to amuse yourself and your fellow trainees when you’re all drunk (because checking out each other’s dicks while you’re sober is Just Not Done).

Cunts, though. Cunts, which push out babies, look kind of like flowers but are made up, mostly, of muscles. That belonging to the girl worth a hundred ordinary soldiers is made up of very strong muscles indeed.

Since the last time she fucked him, Jean has imagined Mikasa flying through the air outside Wall Rose with no trousers or underwear on beneath the straps and boots, impaling herself on a titan’s finger as she lands and snapping it in two. It’s a ludicrous image, but it first came to his mind in the middle of dinner, and he had to excuse himself before his boner started banging on the underside of the table. He ran back to the barracks, practically ripped off his trousers, jerked off, and nearly passed out when he came. He wonders what’s wrong with him sometimes.

Mikasa rocks forward and squeezes Jean’s dick inside her again. He groans. This time she angles low enough that he can and does trap one of her nipples between his lips. She lets him mouth it briefly; he licks the tip, and she pulls back with a shudder that he can feel from inside her. The nipple gleams in the light from the cheap tallow candle, and Jean groans again.

The whole thing was her idea. It started right after a battle that found them fighting, literally, back to back in the air. His crush on her was kind of dead by that point; a thousand more important things had come to take up space in Jean’s mind. Also, well, the girl turned out to be a freaking human weapon, same as the captain and his shitbag uncle. Jean wasn’t sure why having it spelled out in those terms was something of a boner-killer. It’s not like he hadn’t known about her strength for years, and in terms of personality alone she’s always been a little scary (well, okay, more than a little). But it did. Jean isn’t going to claim his dick is a master of logic.

They wound up sprawled on the ground amid sublimating titan bodies, drenched in blood and gore, with the usual non-fatal sprains and wounds that you don’t feel right away but will hurt like a motherfucker as soon as the adrenaline stops. Jean looked up and happened to catch Mikasa’s eyes, and… holy shit, it was like rubbing a coin on your skin when the air is dry. Except that it, whatever “it” was, went in through his eyes and right to his dick. Mikasa looked like she wanted to devour him. Jean, who had nearly been devoured several times in the last half-hour, was perfectly fine with that.

She caught him alone a few hours later and grabbed him by the collar. Jean didn’t put up much resistance as she dragged him to a vacant room in the castle. There were, still are, a lot of vacant rooms. The one she picked had twin beds whose covers were gathering dust, despite all the cleaning the captain made them do when things were slow. The headboard rail had a short length of rope draped over it.

“Strip,” Mikasa said. She normally sounds nothing like the captain but there was something of him in her voice just then.

Mikasa Ackerman tells you to strip, you strip. Mikasa Ackerman tells you to lie on your back, you lie on your back. Mikasa Ackerman tells you to put your wrists against the rail and _don’t touch her_ … you know the drill. Jean was just grateful she got her own clothes off, too. Including the scarf. Maybe especially the scarf. He wouldn’t have said no if she’d kept the damn thing on the whole time, of course. He’s just happy she didn’t. Even if she’d gotten dressed again right away and untied him and told him that he should be happy he got to see her naked once… he’d have been happy he got to see her naked once.

That wasn’t what she did. What she did was rub herself in front of him, head tilted back and eyes closed and mouth open and making all these little noises, until she was wet and he was about to explode. And then she rode him. He didn’t last long the first time, so she gave him a little while and then she rode him again. And again. Rinse, lather, repeat. Jean walked a little funny for a few days afterward.

Right now she straightens up and balances herself with her left hand against the bedcover while she attacks her clit with her right forefinger. She throws her head back and makes the usual _oohs_ and _aahs_ and gasps and other sounds that Jean likes to replay in his head when he jerks off. Her cunt clenches repeatedly with the stimulation. At first it’s not as powerful as before, just a series of pleasant pulsations, but as her orgasm starts to pick up speed she feels like a slick, wet fist pumping around Jean. He’s not sure he’s going to outlast her.

They don’t talk about this when they’re not in this room. Jean’s okay with that. More than just okay, actually. He doesn’t know what the hell there even is to say about it. It’s like fucking the soldier next to you on the battlefield when you’re about to die or you’ve almost died. It happens in the Survey Corps, and nobody else on the field says anything about it. They step around it, ignore it like you’d ignore a booger hanging from your commanding officer’s nose. Because what the fuck are they going to do to you that’s worse than anything you’ve already been through?

Mikasa gasps and her whole body jolts hard, trembling and turning a deep pink all over. She squeezes Jean’s dick so hard, he yells. He doesn’t consider himself a masochist but the pain isn’t making the mounting contractions in his groin one less bit pleasurable. A second later he’s shooting into her. Her eyes are still closed and she’s still grinding down onto him. “Aaah,” Jean grunts after another several seconds. “Stop.”

She stops, straightening her back and rising as high as she can on her knees. Then she dismounts him with a neat sort of half-leap that lands her on her feet beside the bed. Though she’s sweaty and flushed and her eyes are still dilated, she’s all business as she attacks the knot on his wrists.

“Just the one round this evening?” Jean says, cringing at the pathetic note in his voice.

“The new recruits have a night training session that starts in half an hour. I got assigned to help out.”

She pulls the rope loose and hangs it neatly over the bedrail. Before Jean can sit up, she’s backed swiftly away. He’s come to expect this. He chafes his wrists a little, though they’re really not that abraded: Mikasa is good with knots, too. Then he grabs the handkerchief on the nightstand and starts mopping himself up as he watches her dress again.

“You know…” he starts. She’s in her bra and underpants, pulling her trousers back on, and she turns her head toward him expectantly. He swallows and continues with a weak grin: “Next time. If, uh, I can’t get it up again, I, you know, still have a mouth. You know?”

For an extremely long ten seconds she pauses with her trousers drawn halfway up her thighs, staring blankly at him and saying nothing. If Jean hadn’t just shot his load his boner would be withering away to nothing right now. “I’m … pretty good at that,” he adds, too loudly. He’s never had his face in a girl’s crotch in his entire life.

The stare goes on. Jean thinks of the captain again. Finally she says, voice satiated and a bit on the deep side for her, “I’ll take that into consideration.”

The scarf goes on last, as it always does. She leaves the room without further comment, closing the door quietly behind her. She always does that, too. 

“Smooth, really fuckin’ smooth,” Jean mutters, pulling on his own clothes and jamming the come-soaked handkerchief into his pocket. Oh, well. It’s not like him being a total fucking dork is a new thing for her, and it hasn’t stopped her from riding his dick. Maybe she’ll think about his suggestion. He doubts it’s going to make her end this…. thing they have going, so what’s the worst that can happen? She’ll keep on riding his dick.

Dinner was a little over an hour ago. It’s still on the early side to be hitting the sack. He’s thinking maybe he should go find that group of card players, most of whom are still alive, and see if he can end the evening with more money than he did the last time he played with them. 

What he does is stay in the vacant room, shove his trousers back down to his knees but keep everything else on, and jerk off to the thought of what it would feel like to have Mikasa clamping down around his tongue. He comes to the thought of her putting a kink in it that’ll impair his speech for weeks. Then he wipes up after himself again and wonders what’s wrong with him sometimes.


End file.
